


A Wanted Man

by cordeliadelayne



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awesome Eve Moneypenny, Canon-Typical Violence, Eve Moneypenny & Q Friendship, Eve Moneypenny Ships James Bond/Q, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mission Fic, Q (James Bond) in the Field
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Q's long felt himself out of his depth where Bond was concerned, both in and out of the field.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 12
Kudos: 295





	A Wanted Man

“I don't suppose you've got any exploding pens in there, have you?”

“I don't suppose you returned your watch in one piece?”

Bond smiled tightly at Q who smiled right back and dropped Bond's watch onto the table without really looking at. He had a hundred and one things on his to do list and humouring Bond always hovered somewhere near the bottom.

Why it hovered anywhere at all he wasn't going to examine too closely.

“M wants to see you in his office,” Q said after it was clear that Bond was more interested in poking around Q's things than he was in being debriefed.

“He usually does,” Bond agreed. He picked up something that looked like a grenade and turned it upside down.

Q stopped typing on his laptop for a beat, quietly assessing, before continuing to type. Bond took this as tacit acceptance and began picking up other items from what looked like a junk pile. Though of course most of everything in Q's office space looked like a junk pile.

“Was there something you wanted, Bond?” Q asked, still not looking at the other man. Carefully looking anywhere but in fact.

“Always,” Bond replied and Q just stopped himself from looking though couldn't stop the shift in his position as Bond's words sent a shiver down his spine. He knew perfectly well that all Bond was interested in was a reaction; half the time Q didn't think he even paid any attention to what he was saying.

Eventually Q became aware that he was alone. Which was fine. And exactly what he had wanted.

* * * * *

Moneypenny was a terrible gossip and Q didn't really know why he put up with her. Except of course that she was brilliant and kind and never let him get away with anything. Right now though he was cursing the day he'd ever met her because she was looking at him like she could see right through him all while he was supposed to be listening to M's instructions.

“Am I boring you, Q?” M asked.

“No sir, of course not,” Q replied though he sincerely hoped M wasn't about to ask him what he'd been saying because he had absolutely no idea.

“I'm sure Q is as riveted as I am by the vagaries of the Colombian situation,” Bond cut in. “But I'm not really sure what this has to do with us?”

M looked between all three of them as if weighing up his options and finding them wanting.

“I'm going to need Q on the ground for this one – don't interrupt – and I want it doing as quickly and quietly as possible. You're taking the lead on this 007 only because we don't currently have anyone else in position to assist. Understood?”

“Sir,” Bond replied with a smirk that had never sent any kind of interest down Q's spine.

“I really can't do this remotely?” Q asked, trying not to sound like he was whining. His last few outings hadn't exactly gone smoothly and he wasn't really interested in repeating the exercise.

“Sorry, no. Moneypenny has the packets. Familiarise yourselves with the contents and get yourselves situated. You leave at 0700.”

“Sir,” Q said with a nod and a half-bitten back sigh. He ignored Bond in favour of glaring at Moneypenny who was grinning so loudly she was putting Bond's smirk to shame.

“It'll be fun,” she said, leaning against her desk. “You need to get out more and at least in Colombia you'll get to feel the sun.”

“The mad scientist's compound is in an underground complex spanning half of the country,” Q pointed out.

“Technically I think he's more of a megalomaniac,” Bond unhelpfully butted in.

Q glared at him which had the exact effect he expected.

“This is going to be hellish,” he told the room at large.

No one disagreed.

* * * * *

Moneypenny had told Bond that he was afraid of flying because that was what M had told Q to tell Moneypenny to get her out of her own head. In the ordinary course of events he didn't like lying to his friends but working at MI6 had honed his talent for it somewhat, so he could, if the occasion demanded, lie for the greater good.

He wasn't sure if he could carry on with the lie if Bond asked him outright about it but instead, as they settled themselves on the long flight to Colombia, Bond made himself surprisingly accommodating and didn't ask any probing questions.

Q was immediately suspicious but too tired and strung out to let it really bother him. Lying by omission was always preferable after all.

“Do you need to go over anything?” Bond asked him, voice a quiet low rumble in his ear. Q resisted shifting position in his seat, just.

“I'm fine.”

Bond hummed non-committally and settled back to concentrate on the paperback he'd picked up at the airport. Q wasn't sure if he was really reading it or if it was part of his cover, but then decided that both could easily be equally true.

* * * * *

They navigated through the airport smoothly enough, Bond obviously being a dab hand at turning on the charm, though Q could have done without the warm hand against his back, steering him through the crowd. Or perhaps he could have done with it more and it was the sudden increase in space between them he hated when they were checked in at the hotel and preparing for the next day's infiltration of the megalomaniac's base.

“I'll get us dinner and see what chatter I can pick up on the street.”

Q nodded and wordlessly handed over Bond's earpiece so they could keep in touch. Their fingers brushed against each other but Q was used by now at knowing how not to respond and Bond didn't seem to feel anything at all.

* * * * *

They ate in companionable silence while Q's computer flickered through computations that he only had to keep half an eye on. Which was just as well. Bond was wearing light blue trousers and a tight white shirt with the first three buttons undone. Q had always known he'd a thing for men in well fitted suits, but this casual look of Bond's was definitely something to be catalogued and examined later.

Bond was looking at him but he always did that so Q couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that something changed but it seemed there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere and his eyes met Bond's almost of their own volition.

Bond tilted his head in unspoken question and Q could well believe how easy it was for all of Bond's bedmates to fall wherever he dragged them. And London was so very far away, even if while unpacking earlier he'd found the handful of condoms in his wash bag that only Moneypenny could have hidden there.

Their cover was a couple of adventure seekers on honeymoon, hence the one bedroom, even if it was more opulent and larger than Q's entire flat.

“You can sleep on the sofa,” Q said and turned back to checking things on his laptop that didn't need checking just so he didn't have to see Bond's expression; he wasn't sure whether he wanted the other man to be relieved or disappointed.

* * * * *

Q liked London. He liked the cold and wrapping himself up in jumpers, and cats, and snuggling into duvets. Colombia, specifically Villavicencio, was not London and was not cold and was in fact very hot and the sheets were sticking to his body in uncomfortable places even with the air conditioner rattling away in the corner.

Finally he gave up pretending and moved onto his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling. He wondered how Bond was fairing on the sofa but couldn't decide whether he was too tired or too much of a coward to go and find out.

Eventually he decided he needed a drink and padded softly through the half open door that separated the bedroom from the living room and blinked at what he found there. Or rather what he didn't. He checked the bathroom just to be sure but there was no sign of Bond.

He supposed he should have expected as much but it still felt ridiculously like he'd been abandoned.

He'd taken his radio out when Bond had come back with dinner but now he slipped it in again, on the off chance that Bond was in megalomaniac related trouble and not just his usual romantic shenanigans.

“I just went for a walk,” Bond said, clear as day; obviously he'd noticed the moment Q had come online.

Q sighed. “Fine,” he said after a moment, and took the earpiece out. He got himself a water from the fridge. He took a sip while contemplating his reflection in the window and then nodded slowly to himself; he was certain that Bond had just lied to him but there didn't seem any point in calling him on it, so he went back to bed.

* * * * *

Bond was back in the room by the time Q was showered and dressed and sitting at his computer, hacking into the compound's feeds. He needed to be on the ground to access the actual servers but there was plenty he could do from the outside first.

Bond put a mug of tea and some pastries on the table next to him and he accepted them with a nod as the apology they probably weren't.

“We move in one hour,” Bond said. “You'll be ready?”

“Should be done in ten,” Q agreed, not looking up. Bond placed a gun on the table next to the tea but Q didn't react. He knew perfectly well that he'd be going in armed too; it would be necessary for them to split up for a short while when they were inside and Q wasn't exactly looking forward to having to so obviously fend for himself. It wasn't that he wasn't a good shot – he tested every weapon that came out of Q Branch personally before he allowed it to get into the hands of a Double-O after all and probably had the best range scores out of anyone at MI6 – but he was well aware that was only because his targets never moved.

He was vaguely aware that Bond was leaning up against the table drinking his own tea and watching. Always bloody watching.

“Cameras are ours,” Q said. He printed out a couple of key cards and handed one to Bond. “These will get us in anywhere we want. Plans of the building and security black spots are already on your phone.”

“Drink your tea,” Bond said, “before it gets cold.”

Q looked at Bond, allowing the confusion to show on his face, before doing just that. It was perfect, of course, he'd expected nothing less.

“You'll follow my lead when we're inside,” Bond said, and it wasn't a question so Q didn't see fit to answer. Instead he tore off a bit of pastry and shoved it in his mouth to stop himself from saying anything at all.

He could practically hear Bond rolling his eyes but he didn't turn around to actually look. That felt like losing. Though what exactly was at stake he couldn't quite decide.

* * * * *

Q wondered, while he cowered behind a metal table, if Bond had ever had a mission that went smoothly from start to finish. He suspected he knew the answer. Certainly the missions he'd overseen had often gone off piste, but Bond usually found a way out of them and Q would just have to hope now would be the same.

The gunfire stopped and Q moved smoothly to stand and fired three shots, only one of them hitting their target, but enough for the gunman to curse and flop to the floor. Q ducked again and tried not to feel bad that he'd hit the man's leg and not the centre mass shot he'd been going for. When he got back to London he'd have to take up 009's offer of the extensive agent training course, this sort of lackadaisical target hitting would never do.

Either that or he'd became a recluse and refuse to leave the sanctity of his bedroom. He'd told Bond once about the damage he could do in his pyjamas, and at least he wasn't getting shot at.

He suspected M wouldn't buy it though. And actually he quite liked his lab and his colleagues and even being the youngest head of Q Branch in MI6 history wasn't all bad, though there was an alarming amount of paperwork involved for an organisation supposedly concerned about their environmental impact.

Moneypenny and Tanner hadn't managed to keep a straight face when _that_ email had been sent round and even M had looked like he'd wanted to bang his head against his desk.

“...Q...hear me.”

“Bond? Where are you?”

“...explosion....need....leave”.

Q didn't know if Bond meant there was an explosion on its way and he had to leave, or if he needed to set an explosion so they could leave. Damn the man for not filling him on on whatever harebrained scheme he'd decided on. That it involved the pretty wife of the megalomaniac hadn't come as any sort of surprise. But Q felt he was allowed to feel a little put out at the mission's rugs being pulled out from under him.

“Bond, I can't hear you. Say again.”

“Get out! Now!”

He heard that clear enough and just had sufficient of his wits about him to shoot the man who skidded towards his hiding place. Hands shaking in rhythm with his stuttering heart he allowed himself a quick breath of relief – at least this time he'd hit what he'd been aiming for.

There was a low rumble deep in the bowels of the building and Q refrained from cursing the day he'd ever met Bond in favour of grabbing his laptop and the material they'd come to retrieve and heading straight for the corridor that would get him outside in the fastest time possible. One left, two rights, up a flight of stairs and that should do it. Provided he didn't come across anyone else who required shooting since he was now out of bullets.

Luck was not on his side. But Bond was.

He turned the corner and saw his life flash before his eyes before Bond came up behind the gunman and shot him before he had the chance to do the same to Q.

“I told you to move,” Bond said, pulling the megalomaniac's wife behind him. Alicia Sforza, 42, ex-swimsuit model his traitorous mind filled in the blanks for him.

“What the bloody hell do you think I'm doing?” Q asked, but there wasn't much heat in his words since Bond had obviously stopped listening to him before he'd even started.

He opened the door with the key card and silently helped Alicia up the stairs while Bond covered the rear.

“I'm out of bullets,” he informed Bond about halfway up and Bond silently threw him a spare clip that he dealt with on the move. He was quite proud of the fact that his hands weren't shaking, and then annoyed at himself for wondering if Bond had noticed.

He peered around the door and then stepped out, gun drawn. “Clear,” he called out to Bond and he and Alicia moved out.

The rumbling was getting louder but Q knew better than to mention it.

Their car was gone but Alicia seemed to be leading them to her own car and Q followed, tense and worried and increasingly pissed off. He reigned it in though, that wasn't going to help anybody, least of all Alicia who looked half-crazed herself and probably didn't know what had hit her.

Bond had that effect on people.

“Can you drive?”

Q didn't dignify that with an answer just took the keys from Bond's outstretched hand and settled himself in the driving seat. Who exactly did Bond think took his bloody cars on test drives, that's what he'd like to know?

He didn't question why Bond didn't want to drive himself, especially when the shooting started. Better that Bond shoot out the tyres of the cars pursuing them, Q knew very well he'd never have managed it. He could also feel Bond's judgement of his driving settling on his shoulders but he was doing the best he could and quite frankly he just wanted everyone inside the car to get back home in one piece.

If Bond realised he was having an argument with him in his head the entire drive back to safety, he didn't mention it, but he did tell Q to stop at an airport that definitely wasn't their rendezvous point.

He refused to sigh and looked over at Bond.

“I'll meet you back in London. Ditch the car as soon as you can.”

And then Bond and Alicia were gone and Q's headache was only going to get worse.

* * * * *

“He did what?” Moneypenny hissed in his ear.

Q kept his own feelings in check and finished packing up his laptop. He'd managed to dump the car, get himself to the primary rendezvous point and upload the data back to London, so now all that he needed was to get on a plane and hopefully avoid M's ire.

“You know Bond, law unto himself.”

“Are you okay?”

Q had been hoping to avoid examining that question too closely. “I'm fine.”

Moneypenny snorted inelegantly and Q huffed a small laugh; he was very far from fine but he was glad Moneypenny wasn't going to push any further.

“You're on a plane at 4. Tickets on your phone. Passport will be delivered in one hour. Code word appetiser.”

“Appetiser?”

“Not my department,” Moneypenny said, and he could hear her grinning. “Have a drink, steady your nerves. You did good.”

“Thanks,” Q replied. “I'll see you soon.”

They hung up and Q walked slowly towards the bathroom and then promptly threw up his last meal in the toilet.

* * * * *

The last person he expected to see, though in hindsight he should have, was Bond himself sitting nonchalantly in the aisle seat to Q's window. Taking a sharp hold of his facial expression Q put his bag away and did not flinch as Bond stood up and placed a hand against his back to direct him to his seat.

The plane was only about half full and no one had sat in the seats in front of them but still Q didn't want to ask any pressing questions until they were back on British soil. Bond seemed equally reluctant to start a conversation and after a moment Q turned to the window and settled himself down to have the sleep he hadn't managed at the safe house.

“He was holding her daughter hostage,” Bond said after an interminable silence. Q, who thought he'd been doing a good job of feigning sleep shifted in his seat.

“Well I wouldn't know about that since Intel sharing is apparently something that happens to other people.”

He could feel Bond tense up and then relax and wasn't sure what to make of it.

“You're upset.”

“M's upset,” Q said. “I'm indifferent”.

Bond didn't call him on the obvious lie and they didn't say anything to each other until they were getting into the car Moneypenny had arranged for them at the airport.

“I'm not used to sharing my plans,” Bond said, as he sank into the plush seats of the town car.

“I know,” Q said. Because he did and being mad at Bond would serve no real purpose when they all had jobs to do. And because it meant that Bond was saved from putting into words things that were better left unsaid.

It wasn't an apology though, Q noted, and it probably never would be.

* * * * *

The debriefing with M went surprisingly well, at least while Q was still in the room – he'd been dismissed fairly early on to get back to Q Branch who were pleasingly happy to see him back and eager to fill him in on what had happened during his absence, both work related and personal. Only 004 was currently in the field though a number of other agents were Intel gathering and everything seemed to be ticking along nicely.

Q wasn't exactly wishing for an emergency, but it wasn't often he felt superfluous in his own office and even though he had any number of things he could, should be doing, he couldn't concentrate on any of them.

He wondered idly if Bond realised Q had killed a man just a few days ago and then decided that he likely hadn't given it a single thought.

Falling into bed with him might have been the better choice after all.

* * * * *

MI6 was nowhere near a 9-5 organisation but occasionally Q found the time to leave at a reasonable hour of the day, though usually he avoided the rush hour on the Tube and just this once he asked for one of the pool cars to take him home.

He was so focused on getting back to his cats that he didn't notice Bond lounging up against the car he'd been assigned until he was almost on top of him.

“Evening, Q.”

“007,” Q replied, “something you needed?”

“I thought I'd buy you a drink.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Q sighed. “So many, many reasons. I'm going home. Come, or don't.” And so saying he moved around Bond and got into the car.

“Sir?” the driver asked.

“Directly home, please, thank you,” Q said, just as Bond slid into the car next to him.

Guess they were doing this then. Whatever this was.

* * * * *

Q was acutely aware that Bond was watching him as he fed and fussed over his cats. And he carried on watching him as Q made a pot of tea and rummaged around in his cupboards to see what he could offer in the way of food. He mainly realised that it had been a long time since he'd done a proper grocery shop.

He turned around to find Bond _right there_ and before he knew what was happening he was being pushed up against the counter and Bond was kissing him.

“What are you doing?” Q asked against Bond's lips.

“Apologising,” Bond replied and Q mentally shrugged and started kissing him back; he could work with that.

They found their way to the bedroom, Q navigating as Bond shed them both of their clothes. Q had words bubbling up inside him but let Bond swallow them with heated kisses and a sure and confident touch that had him keening deep in the back of his throat despite himself. He'd known Bond would be good, but god the man seemed to know how to hit every one of his most sensitive spots like he'd been studying him all this time, and maybe he had, maybe that's just what Bond did, treated everyone like a mark waiting to be used.

“Stop, bloody, thinking,” Bond growled into Q's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there and then lapping at it with his tongue.

“Never quite managed that, I'm afraid,” Q replied.

“Of course you haven't,” Bond said, and it was the fond smile that broke Q who suddenly felt far too raw and exposed.

“Bond...”

“Shh,” Bond whispered, “it's all right.” He shifted them further up the bed and moved the pillow out of Q's way. “We can stop right now if you want.”

Q took a deep breath and ran his hands along Bond's side as he stayed perfectly still, leaning over Q on his hands and knees, the slight tremble in his arms the only indication that Q was having any effect.

So Q smiled and leaned up, putting his arms around Bond's neck and drawing him in for a kiss. It wasn't anything like their previous kisses which had been heated but tentative, as if they both afraid the other would break, but this time there was a ferocious want in their touches and Q spread his legs and urged Bond on.

“Pushy,” Bond said with a laugh.

“Always,” Q replied. He turned around and rummaged in his bedside drawer, finally finding the lube and condoms as Bond sucked at his neck. “That better not leave a mark.”

Bond huffed a laugh. “I know what I'm doing.”

Q shivered and twisted around. “Debatable.”

Bond gave a rare real smile then and took the offered lube and condoms. “Sure?”

Q nodded and then gasped as Bond started preparing him, fingers surprisingly tender and leaving him gasping for more as he leaned back to deal with the condom. Q had an idea that this might be the only time they do this so he wanted to take in as much as he could but Bond seemed determined to not let him think only feel and his feet scrabbled against the duvet as Bond pushed inside, relentless and comforting all at the same time and it was almost too much, almost too real.

“Fuck,” Q gasped as Bond started to move in earnest and he wrapped his arms around Bond's back and urged him on. Everywhere Bond touched felt like he was on fire and he pushed down as Bond moved and felt inordinately pleased with himself that Bond's rhythm faltered.

“I knew you'd be good at this,” Bond whispered into his neck, nibbling at his earlobe and Q's brain nearly short-circuited at the idea that Bond had given him, this, any real thought at all.

He tried to find the words to respond but could think of nothing to say that wasn't some sort of cliched nonsense best left to the porn stars of the world, and besides the world was starting to narrow to the way Bond was touching him like he was trying to memorise every inch of him and before he could work out what that might mean his orgasm was rolling through him and he just had enough presence of mind to send Bond over the edge with him before the world whited out every single thought in his head.

He came back to himself with Bond pressing a soft kiss to his head and then disappearing off the bed. At some point his glasses had been removed to his bedside table and he put them on and listened to the tap in the bathroom running and then failed to move out of the way of the damp cloth thrown his way which landed on his chest.

“Thank you,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're welcome,” Bond grinned and Q realised he'd never seen Bond like this before, almost playful and, dare he suggest such a thing, happy.

“I could rustle up some food?” Q said, acutely aware that they were both still naked.

“The least you could do,” Bond agreed and Q felt the last vestiges of nervousness retreat. All right then. He could do this.

With surprisingly steady hands he threw on some clothes and only startled when Bond ran a finger down his arm.

He turned to look up at Bond and, feeling bold, pulled him into a kiss. Bond didn't hesitate in returning it and pushed him up against the open bedroom door.

“I'll just leave this here, then.”

Q jumped but Bond looked perfectly unruffled, damn him, despite still being unclothed.

“Moneypenny,” Bond said, “something we can do for you?”

With a smile that looked like the cat who'd got the cream even more than usual, Moneypenny indicated the bottle of Q's favourite wine she'd just put on the kitchen counter.

“I thought Q might need some company, but I can see you've already got that sorted.”

“More than,” Bond agreed. “Goodnight, Moneypenny.”

“Good night, James. _Q._ ”

She chuckled to herself as she left and Q knew with a bone deep certainty that he was never going to hear the end of this.

“I'll put some clothes on, why don't you see what goes with the wine.”

“Right,” Q said. “Good idea.” He smiled a little hesitatingly at Bond then moved out from under his arms.

“Q,” Bond said, before Q had got halfway to the kitchen and he waited until Q had turned around. “I'm staying as long as you want me to.”

“Right,” Q said, a little blindsided. “Okay.”

“Just okay?” Bond asked, moving forward, his body bathed in the soft yellow shadows from the street lights through the still half open curtains.

“More than,” Q replied, with a twitch of his lips.

James' smile was blinding and Q had to stop himself from shielding his eyes. Okay. He could do this.

They could do this.

They _would_ do this.

They did.  



End file.
